Professor's Little Pet

After he had his cock lodged in my throat for a few seconds, I opened my mouth and let him in. My chest hurt and my eyes were watering as I fought for air.

He let go for a second, and I sucked in a few breaths of air before he shoved back in my throat. Even as I fought against giving in to his authority, my hands left deep indentations on my thighs from gripping them so tightly.

I could have prevented his advances by stepping back, using a safe word, or even fleeing the situation altogether. But I yearned for this; I want to be treated as if I were nothing more than a means to his end. The more forcefully he dominated me, the less consideration he showed, and the more completely I submitted.

For a moment, nothing else mattered but his cock in my throat. The music was a gentle swell beneath me that I could feel but not hear, and the sounds of the neighbors' talk gradually receded into a background throb. For him, the only thing that mattered was whether I gave him access to my neck. Only taking breaths at his discretion. Having him f*ck me at his own speed.

My thighs were soaked with pussy fluids, and my saliva dripped from my lips. Even though I was a complete mess, I had never before felt more like a sexual being.

Above me, I heard him exclaim, "I'm going to come over your breasts, pet," and he quickly drew out, spraying come all over my clenched nipples and soft bosom. My body shivered as rivulets of water trickled down my legs, but I didn't move because I didn't know what to do.

He gave me a sarcastic grin. He put his fingers in my mouth after scooping some of his ejaculate off my breasts. Just lick this, he said.

The memory of all the wonderful males I'd dated whose come I'd refused to swallow stunned me into compliance. Like a cat, I licked the meat from his fingers as he gave it to me. When I was disgusting and sticky and unpleasant, I also felt strong and sexy.

My s*x organ was aching, full, and pulsating with want. I let out an inward sigh; I needed to feel his body next to mine so badly. But I didn't bother asking; I was just there to make him happy.

He distanced himself, his eyes dilating as he studied me. At last, his intention was crystal plain as he pointed toward the screen door. It was instructed that I enter the building.

***

He was leaning on a counter in the kitchen, observing me, when he said, "Shower?" I was surprised by his thoughtfulness; after receiving his come, I felt sticky and the thought of a shower seemed like heaven.

To this I said, "Yes, please, Professor Bretton," my gaze fixed on the ground. The moment I went inside, I lowered them.

He chuckled and told me, "You can make eye contact, you know." I like seeing the animosity in your expression when I force you to perform something that is difficult for you. Then your passion takes control, and you have no choice but to comply.

I looked at him, and just as he had said, anger welled up in my eyes. I took offense to his mockery, and it was obvious that he was trying to provoke me on purpose. If I hadn't mentally counted to 10, I may have thrown a mug at the arrogant jerk.

As he watched me try to contain my anger, a flutter of emotion crossed his lips.

"Well done, dear, I applaud your restraint. Let's take a look at your shower situation, shall we?

I followed him upstairs, making an effort to conceal my admiration for his abode as I did so. A lot of literature, art, and vibrant colors made it seem like home. The rooms were bathed in a pleasant glow from the many lamps that decorated the interiors. Oren's University office was fully functioning; it was a jumble of papers, takeout containers, and stale coffee. The difference between his house and the rest of the neighborhood was striking.

He showed me the restroom and offered me a towel. If you aren't out in ten minutes, I'm coming to get you, and you will receive a spanking you'll regret, he added calmly. After agreeing, I accepted the towel and set it on the sink. I left the door wide open since I was nude and he was certain to see all there was to see of me before the night was out. I've just walked into the shower, switched on the water, and sigh with pleasure as the hot, wonderful water pours over me.

I was reluctant to leave his shower since the water pressure was so good. The water pressure in the shower at my student accommodation was so low that I made a practice of taking a short detour to the facilities at the gym every day. This shower, however, completely trumped the ones at the gym in terms of pressure and water temperature. At first, I was nervous of the glass shower door, but then it fogged up and I simply closed my eyes and breathed in deeply.

What am I doing, ask the magic 8-ball? Inwardly, I made a mouthing sound. Oren was correct in his assessment of my behavior; I had engaged in submissive games with prior girlfriends, but I always got my way in the end. But things were different with Oren tonight. What he said to do, I did. In addition, I found it to be quite enjoyable. Nothing about the situation made me uneasy or on edge. It was a peaceful and steady moment for me.

My mental Magic 8-ball gave me a vague response, so I tried again. The joke was on me. To this point, I'd gone so far as to consult my own personal Magic 8-ball whenever I needed some direction. Definitely off their rocker.

Shit. My eyelids shot open. How long had I been in the shower, basking in the hot water's euphoria? I checked, and the restroom did not have a clock. I used soap, water, and a towel as rapidly as I could to get clean and dry. I emerged from the restroom, crossing my fingers that I had made it in time.

***

There was a solitary door I could see that was unlocked, and I went through it. Oren was there, laying on his side with his back to the door and looking more alluring than any man had any right to. Though he had removed his footwear, he was still fully dressed but for the fact that the zipper on his pants was still fastened after he had come all over my breasts.

I'm sorry, but I'd want to know, "How long did I take?" This is what I probed him with.

Without saying a word, he stared at me.

Crap. Professor Bretton: "How long did it take me?" I promptly rephrased my inquiry.

He mocked me with his laughter. The sarcastic laughter returned. "What is it that you want to know, sweetie? Is it okay if I tell you that you completed it in under 10 minutes? Is it the spanking you really want, from a guy who won't let up no matter how much you beg?

Curse him. I loathed the fact that he understood me so well. I was curious as to how it would feel to be helpless beneath his arms and get a spanking, knowing that he'd stop whenever he felt like it.

I avoided looking at him, and his chuckle echoed throughout the room once again.

To the pet: "Please come here." There was an air of mild indulgence in his tone. "Lay down on the bed and make room for me."

He tapped the headboard of the bed next to him.

I strolled in, put down the towel, and went onto the bed next to him, spreading my legs. He stood there, staring at me with unfathomable eyes.

When he eventually stated, "Lift your hands," it was to signal a gesture. I extended my hands, and he took them, bringing them together and then up and over my head. The headboard was constructed from slats of wood. Don't let go of the slats; keep your grip.

That's right, I nodded my head in agreement. Still delighted, he gave me a reassuring grin and kneeled between my legs.

Spread 'em out, baby. I complied, despite the protests of my thigh muscles as I spread them as much as I could. I tried to ignore her use of the term "pet." I just couldn't warm to it.

A husky voice said, "Now, darling, I believe you deserve a treat." His fingers reached out to touch my crotch.